


The Quiet Years

by aweyeahs



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Best Friends, F/F, Fluff, Implied Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 11:56:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17642321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aweyeahs/pseuds/aweyeahs
Summary: When they find themselves on the isle Aubade, Hella and her friends (and Adelaide) find themselves struggling to adapt. Resigned by fate to years spent in paradise, Hadrian, Adaire, and Adelaide find themselves sharing this time with the fighter Hella Veral. Perhaps a few quiet years together will give everyone the strength to finally explore their feelings that have always existed just under the surface.





	The Quiet Years

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SeaFromNowhere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaFromNowhere/gifts).



> Happy Secret Samol!!! When I saw your request for Hella stuff, I did a double-take because it seemed like exactly something I would request haha. This is my first real attempt to write fic but I really wanted to write scenes between Hella and her three favourite people. It's three separate one-on-one scenes with Hadrian/Adaire/Adelaide (primarily framed from their point of view) and Hella. My original plans for this were pretty ambitious so I had to cut back on some stuff, but it still ended up being much longer than I thought. There's some very light Helladaire and Helladelaide, with some Hella and Hadrian best friends time as well. All three of these relationships are really important to me so I hope I did them justice and that you enjoy this!

There are few things as humbling as a sparring session with Hella Veral. That’s something Hadrian is acutely aware of as he squares off against her. They find themselves in an open pasture next to an empty beach. It was the only place that Hella thought was far enough away from everyone that she could get some peace of mind.

Usually she’s not any more talkative while sparring than while she isn’t, but today Hadrian notices she’s been a little more vocal. Hadrian also notices, however, that it hasn’t seemed to impede her sparring. She presses every advantage and blocks every advance without breaking her train of thought.

“I just-” Hella stops mid-sentence as she bashes Hadrian square in the chest. With one forceful movement, she knocks the wind out of Hadrian using the hilt of her new training blade and sends him down, sprawling out in the grass.

Her new sword isn’t as heavy as her old blade. Swinging it doesn’t carry the same satisfying weight of the Blade in the Dark. For Hella, it’s like trying to row a boat using the thin edge of the oars. It’s uncomfortable, and it’s a feeling she can’t seem to shake no matter where she goes on this damned island. Just like her new blade, everything here is all too light.

Hadrian can’t tell the difference. Getting bashed by Hella Veral always hurts like hell. It doesn’t matter what sword she has, or if she even has a sword at all. It was never the Blade in the Dark that earned Hadrian’s respect, or his friendship.

“I just don’t get it...” Hella grumbles to her sparring partner as she waits for Hadrian to help himself back up. “What are we even doing here Hadrian?”

Hadrian takes a moment to stand before responding. Having only arrived in Aubade a few months ago, everything on the island is still absolutely breathtaking to him. He can’t imagine it being anything but perfect in its beauty, having been shaped by the hand of his God.

“Well I don’t think we really know why any of us are here. But we were speaking to Samol, and then the Ordennans came, and then-” He’s cut off by a glare from Hella that could kill a lesser man. “I don’t know. Trust me, I want to get back there just as much as you do. There are people counting on us out there,” he finishes. This place is paradise sure, but he’s already begun to get anxious just thinking Rosana. _At least Benjamin is safe_ , he thinks. “But Samothes said it’s not time yet, and when it is time, we’ll know.”

Hadrian quickly slashes upwards, hoping to catch Hella off-guard, but she effortlessly parries and steps back, putting distance between the two of them.

“And until then?” Hella raises an eyebrow at him questioningly as the two circle each other.

“Until then, we keep each other busy.” He’s always been good at saying something even when he doesn’t know the answer.

Hella lets out a short laugh at that. “And do what, Hadrian? Spar all day?”

“Well, sure. I mean we’ve already been here two months, it can’t be that much longer,” he reasons, mostly to himself.

“I suppose you’re right,” Hella admits with a sigh.

Hadrian braces himself as they both rush towards each other to close the distance, Hadrian just barely managing to fend off two powerful slashes from Hella.

“You are my best friend Hella, I wasn’t joking when I said that earlier,” Hadrian says firmly.

Hadrian’s most common expression is one of overt earnesty, making his forthright personality apparent to all who meet him. This is never more apparent than when he speaks of his friendship with Hella. “You’re the strongest of any of us, and I know you’ve been through worse.”

Their swords clash again, this time locking against one another as Hadrian struggles to overpower Hella.

“I appreciate it, Hadrian, but that’s not it,” Hella says from behind the two blades, still holding her ground. “It’s the people. The people _I’ve_ killed, Hadrian. They’re just walking around like nothing’s wrong!”  

As she speaks, Hadrian just about manages to shift the balance in his favour. Their blades slide against each other until his is pressing down on Hella’s.

“Not to mention everything with Adaire...” Hella continues, seemingly unbothered by Hadrian’s advantage. “Or gods, Adelaide.”

“What about Adaire and Adelaide?” Hadrian responds, with a genuinely clueless look his face (his second most common expression). Hella just laughs and shifts her weight forward, shoving against Hadrian and sending him once again sprawling backwards on his ass.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hella says smiling down at Hadrian, seemingly pleased with either her handiwork, or his usual obliviousness. “If you’re right, we’ll be out of here soon,” she continues, “And if not, maybe I’ll finally learn how to sail and at least get off this fucking island.”

_She’d be a good captain_ , Hadrian thinks as he helps himself up again.

“At the _very_ least I’d be able to get away from everyone bothering me.” Hella muses as she leans against her dulled sword.

 

* * *

 

“I am just incredibly bored.”

It has become Adelaide’s go-to reason whenever Hella pesters her about why the Empress of Pearls was tagging along on her boat rides. She has found it quite endearing since Hella accused her of such during their first excursion together. Now here she is once again, a basket of apples hanging from one arm, and a bottle of champagne tucked under the other. She places a hand on her hip and cocks her head to the side as she continues on to the second part of her new favourite catchphrase with the most wicked grin.

“And you are quite entertaining.”

It’s been just over two years since everyone arrived in Aubade, and she’s accompanied Hella on a couple of boat rides since the Ordennan took up the new hobby, each time with a new and ridiculous interpretation of a sailors’ outfit. This time she is dressed in a parody of a pirate’s garb - probably informed by any time she spent with Brandish and his crew, Hella suspects. She is wearing a navy blue leather corset over a billowing shoulderless white frilly shirt, with a large black tricorn hat adorned with plenty of white feathers and  weighed down by cords of beaded pearls that drape off the edges of the hat. Adelaide herself is also similarly adorned with pearls, wearing dozens as bracelets, necklaces, and seemingly as a sort of belt, cinching a flowing white skirt around her waist. She finishes off the outfit with ridiculously long leather boots that reach up to her mid-thigh, the tall heels making a pronounced clacking noise as she walks up stone path to the pier, giving away her approach long before she enters Hella’s line of sight.

Hella doesn’t even say anything in response. She just sighs and Adelaide steps past her and settles into her favourite spot, leaning against the side of the ship, close to the helm and to where Hella commands the vessel from. A smirk is still ever-present on Adelaide’s lips.

She watches Hella as she prepares to set sail - Toned arms and calloused hands pulling ropes, tying knots, and unfurling sails. Adelaide couldn’t tell you exactly what she is doing, but Hella Veral at work has always been a spectacle, a spectacle Adelaide enjoys quite a bit.

“If you’re gonna keep doing this, you could at least help out once in a while,” Hella says as she secures the last loose rope and takes her place at the helm. Adelaide just scoffs at that and turns her attention to the calm waters ahead.

“So where is the Queen-Killer taking me today, hmm?” Adelaide asks as she plucks an apple from the basket beside her. She turns it over in her hands as she speaks, before punctuating the question with a bite.

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that. I didn’t pick that name,” Hella responds. It is clear she isn’t in the mood for Adelaide’s shit.

Adelaide just smirks. “Oh, I wasn’t talking about you my dear.”

It takes a moment for Hella to realize what she meant.

“Oh we are _not_ calling this boat the Queen-Killer,” Hella shoots back.

“We? So you admit I have some say in the matter.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Well you have to admit, it _is_ a good name for a boat.”

Hella doesn’t respond, and the once-Empress smiles in triumph.

“Anyway we’re just going out to keep an eye on things.” Hella finally states.

“Ah yes, the usual ‘guard duty’. I don’t know why you can’t just admit you only keep doing this because you’re hoping I keep gracing you with my presence,” Adelaide responds with her usual sarcastic demeanour.

This time it’s Hella’s turn to scoff in response. “Not everything’s about you, you know. Maybe I just want-”

“Just want a place to show off your spectacular musculature? Don’t worry Hella, you don’t have to be shy around me...” She takes another bite.

“Ugh, I don’t know why I’m still talking to you.” Hella turns her attention back to the horizon, looking for a distraction that doesn’t exist.

“You know you would be lonely without me,” Adelaide remarks coyly. “I’m the only one who really understands you.”

“I have other friends,” Hella responds emphatically, never turning around to look at Adelaide. “Lem, Hadrian...”

“And Adaire.” Adelaide says, finishing Hella’s sentence for her. She can never understand why someone as remarkable as Hella continued to hang around such inane people. Adaire she can understand, the girl had a respectable cleverness, despite herself. Plus she seems to have a particular... appreciation for a certain Ordennan swordswoman. That was something they both had in common.

“But none of them know you like I do, darling.” Adelaide moves over to Hella and places a hand on her cheek, drawing the would-be sailor’s attention away from the stormy horizon and towards her own imperial visage. “After all, I’ve be-”

“Look. Just because you were in my head, doesn’t mean you understand me.” Hella cuts Adelaide off, pulling away from her. She goes over to attend to some rigging (that almost certainly doesn’t need attending), leaving Adelaide standing next to a drifting steering wheel. “You don’t know anything about me,” Hella finishes, punctuating her sentence with a forceful tug on a length of rope.

Adelaide is caught off guard by how much the comment bothers her. Hella’s words hit Adelaide right in the chest like a tonne of bricks. She turns away from Hella, their backs now facing each other, and returns to her usual spot leaning over the edge.

“Well I suppose I don’t then,” Adelaide responds after a long moment of silence with a distinct bite of annoyance in her voice.

Hella lets out a long sigh and takes a moment to secure the steering wheel with a bit of rope before walking towards Adelaide. She sidles up next to Adelaide, leaning out over the crystal blue water with her. To the Empress’ surprise, Hella plucks the half-eaten apple out of her hand and takes a bite, only speaking up once she finishes chewing.

“But I mean, if you keep insisting on interrupting my boat trips, maybe you’ll learn a thing or two about me,” Hella suggests before taking another bite. Adelaide, though surprised and impressed by the move, is nevertheless quick to respond.

“Why Hella, that almost sounds like an invitation!” Adelaide exclaims with (only somewhat sarcastic) excitement, pressing herself against Hella and resting her head on the warrior’s shoulder. Hella makes no move to reject the former Queen of Death’s advances, and instead just smiles and takes another bite before lazily tossing the apple core into the ocean waves.

“Don’t push it.”

 

* * *

 

The early sun has just begun to shine down through the large display windows of Ducarte’s when it’s proprietress arrives. Once Adaire unlocks the small wooden door and steps inside, she begins preparations for the day ahead, as she does every morning. She begins moving the wares from one shelf to another, rearranging the display cases, cycling old merchandise for new - all with the hopes of providing a fresh shopping experience for her customers. Adaire finds such a routine quite odd for her, given the life she’s lead, but she’s been settling into it quite happily despite it.

She just about finishes clearing off a table in the back when the front door bell chimes, signalling someone entering the store. Though the store isn’t set to open for another couple hours, Adaire smiles and quickly brushes off the front of her outfit before moving to the front of the store. She was expecting this particular visitor.

Once the entrance to the new department store enters her vision, Adaire spots the imposing form of Hella Veral as she struggles to get the large crate she’s carrying through the door. Adaire takes a moment before making herself known to quietly appreciate the sight of Hella fumbling with the unwieldy package, since it was such a rare occasion that Hella struggles with any sort of physical task. Adaire had asked Hella to pick up the box from one Aubade’s tailors, but she hadn’t anticipated the size of the delivery.

“Here, you just need to move it a bit to the left,” Adaire says as she moves towards Hella and begins guiding the woman into the shop. Eventually, the two of them manage to get the box through the door, bringing Hella inside along with it.

“So where do you want it?” Hella asks, craning her neck to catch Adaire as she darts around to close the door behind Hella.

“I just cleared off a table in the back you can set it down on,” Adaire responds, the two of them foregoing the usual pleasantries and greetings. Small talk like that feels unnecessary between the two of them at this point.

Adaire then leads Hella through the shop. Hella, very acutely aware of the combined size of herself and the crate she’s carrying, worries about bumping into any one of the numerous, meticulously arranged displays that decorate Ducarte’s. But with only a few words, Adaire deftly manages to guide Hella through to the back without incident. Once over the table, Hella unceremoniously drops the crate on the table with a noticeable thud. Adaire approaches, frowning when she realizes she might not be able to actually reach the top of the box to open it while it sits on the tall table.

“Want me to open it?” Hella offers as Adaire starts looking around the room for something to help her out.

“No need, I should have something back here I can use,” Adaire responds over the noise of rummaging through a nearby closet.

Hella loiters there for a few awkward moments as Adaire continues her search, unsure of what to do next. Eventually curiosity gets the better of her, and she lifts the lid of the box just enough to get a glimpse of its contents: coloured fabrics of all shapes and patterns, folded neatly on top of each other. She didn’t realize Adaire was getting into textiles.

Soon Adaire comes back over carrying a small stepladder, just catching Hella slipping the lid back on out of the corner of her eye. She decides to not comment on it - after all, it was never supposed to be a big surprise or anything. She places the stepladder carefully on the floor and uses it to step up to the box. She cracks the lid open, revealing what Hella had already suspected was inside, dozens of beautiful clothing pieces of various styles and fashions.

As Adaire begins to unpack the box, carefully moving each pieceto the long table beside her, Hella marvels at the variety of fashions within it. It’s an extremely eclectic mix, with everything from the most ostentatious embroidered suit jackets to simple blue dresses and everything in between. Each piece seemed to be a glimpse into a different culture or historical period.

“Where did you get all this stuff?” Hella askes with a hint of incredulity.

“I thought it would be a good idea if I got a whole bunch of people from around the island to donate old outfits and accessories they didn’t want anymore. Then I got them all cleaned and paid a tailor to fix them up so I could put them up in the shop here,” Adaire explains as she finishes unpacking the box and sets off to inspect each article. As she does so, she begins moving them around to assemble different outfits, pairing shirts with pants and jeweled accessories with lavish dresses.

Hella has to admit it was a clever idea, one that would work fairly well in a place like Velas. Still, she remains a little confused by the whole prospect, and how it would work in a place like Aubade.

“But can’t people just ask Samothes or whatever to get rid of all their old stuff?” She asks. “Or even just ask him for new clothes? Why would people want to buy used stuff instead?”

“People have a lot of sentimental attachment to clothes. Quite often they think they still want it around until someone comes and asks them if that’s really the case. Also I think there’s a certain appeal to used items if they’ve been cared for properly. Even if that appeal is just that they’re cheaper to buy,” Adaire responds while puzzling over if the cream pants would look good with the burgundy shoes.

Hella can’t relate, but she can’t disagree either. Adaire has a more talented eye when it came to this stuff than Hella did. So Hella continues to watch as Adaire wordlessly and continuously rearranges and re-evaluates the outfits she’s putting together. Occasionally she’ll pause to consider a particular outfit before deciding to keep it as is, or toss the whole thing back in the box if it doesn’t meet her inscrutable list of standards.

One outfit in particular catches Hella’s eye, a long and billowy dark-orange dress. The fabric itself is light and airy despite the darker colouring, and is accented with various bright and colourful jewels embroidered into it with gold thread. They form intricate wave-like patterns running from the shoulders down the sides, and eventually wrapping around the hemline. They almost resemble an ocean of tiny gemstones along the bottom of the dress, Hella thinks. Hella can also see that Adaire has matched various pieces of gold jewelry with it: two sets of bangles for the wrists, a number of bejeweled necklaces and rings, and a set of drop chain earrings constructed of long, thin chains of gold that loop back on each other, forming almost-teardrop shapes from the chain.

Between the muted colours of the fabric and the bold embellishments and accessories, Hella recognizes it as the kinds of clothes the wealthy of Ordenna would wear. Though she never particularly wanted to wear something like this herself, she always found the women who wore dresses like these to be breathtakingly beautiful.

Eventually Adaire manages to cut down her original arrangement of over a dozen outfits to only four. She then steps back and takes a contemplative posture, apparently reaching an impasse as she turns to look up at Hella. “Which ones do you think we should put in the front window? I can only really fit three mannequins up there, and I can’t decide which of these to display.”

Hella is momentarily stunned that Adaire would even ask her opinion. Not that the Ordennan ever dresses poorly, but she’s never given it the level of thought Adaire seems to be requesting. Luckily for her, Adaire continues her train of thought.

“I definitely think the tan suit, because let’s be honest, a nice suit looks good on anyone,” Adaire states very matter-of-factly. “And I think the pale blue dress should go up as well since it’s simple, and we don’t want anyone to think we only deal with fancy clothes.” Adaire continues while Hella nods along, pretending to understand enough of the intricacies of fashion to agree with her. “I can’t decide between the last two though...” Adaire finishes, returning to her puzzled posture.

Hella takes a moment to consider both remaining outfits. One is the dark-orange dress and gold jewelry she had admired earlier, while the other is a much more practical outfit - a loose off-white shirt and simple brown slacks. It was a nice, if simple outfit and one that actually wouldn’t look out of place in Hella’s wardrobe. After a moment of consideration, Hella takes a step forward and points to the orange dress. Adaire raises an eyebrow at Hella.

“Huh, I would’ve thought the other was more your taste,” Adaire says as she picks up the dress to fold it up and set it aside with the other chosen outfits.

Hella shrugs in response. “It’s not, but the rich nobles back home would often wear them, and I always thought they looked nice. Besides, they were never made to fit my size anyway.”

Adaire inspects the dress as she carefully folds it. Hella is certainly right - dresses like these are rarely made to accommodate someone with as large a stature as she, and this one was no exception. It’s a shame, Adaire thinks, since Hella would look stunning in such a dress, as out of character as it would be for her.

“Yeah, I was never one for wearing outfits quite as bold as that either. Jewelry was never really my thing,” Adaire responds. Hella smirks and raises an eyebrow back at that.

“Really? I thought jewelry was _especially_ your thing?”

Adaire can’t help but blush a little at being called out like that. It wasn’t her fault jewelry was small, valuable, and easy to conceal. But she quickly recovers and waves her hand as if to bat away Hella’s remark.

“Well you know what I meant. Now will you give me a hand with these?” Adaire responds as she hands Hella the pile of neatly folded clothes and begins to lead Hella back to the front of the store. Hella follows behind her with a smirk still on her face. It’s not often she manages to catch Adaire with a witty quip like that.

The two women spend the hour or so dressing the mannequins in the early morning light. Adaire and Hella each begin by dressing separate mannequins, but once Adaire notices Hella struggling to get a bowtie done up properly, Adaire happily goes to help her out. The two of them dress each mannequin together, with Adaire mostly directing Hella as she struggles with the various pins and clips needed to fit the clothes to the wooden figure. The occasional pedestrian passes by the shop, stopping for a moment to observe the two of them, before giving a friendly wave and continuing on. Eventually they finish with the last outfit, the Ordennan dress, without any mishaps apart from a few pinpricks on Hella’s end.

“Well that’s over with,” Hella says with a sigh of relief as she stands back to admire their handiwork. However, Adaire isn’t quite as easily satisfied.

“Something’s still not quite right,” she mutters mostly to herself as she observes the display from beside Hella. She walks off for a moment to fetch her stepladder, and returns to place it at the feet of the mannequin in the Ordennan dress. It’s posed with its hands raised and turned out as if gesturing during a rousing conversation at a dinner party,showing off its various pieces of jewelry to an imaginary audience. It stands elevated on a pedestal, lifting its head just out of Adaire’s normal reach. Standing on the tips of her toes on the stepladder, she just manages to unfasten one of the intricate chain earrings.

“Adaire, what are you doing? I thought it looked fine,” Hella asks, exasperated.

“It was. Just don’t move anywhere,” Adaire responds as she steps down and picks up the stepladder and moves over to Hella.

“What do you mean ‘don’t move’?”

Hella doesn’t get an answer as Adaire places the stepladder at her feet and steps up to stand face to face with Hella. It’s immediately strange for Adaire to be standing just inches away from Hella, and for their eyes to be level with each other. She takes a moment to compose herself before speaking.

“Look just- Just stand still okay? I don’t want you to get pricked again.”

“Wha- Adaire!” Hella exclaims as Adaire suddenly leans in, reaching towards her.

“Just humour me alright? I think it could look good on you,” Adaire shares, holding up the gold earring to Hella. Hella immediately feels her face flush with slight embarrassment. She has to admit, her mind went elsewhere as soon as Adaire began reaching towards her, though she would never say so.

“May I?” Adaire inquires, seemingly aware of Hella’s hesitation.

Hella just nods in response, and Adaire slowly leans in against her (probably closer than she needs to, but Hella probably won’t mind, Adaire thinks to herself) to begin fastening the flashy piece of jewelry to the swordswoman’s ear.

After a short moment that feels like forever to the two of them, Adaire leans back to assess her work. The earring, delicate but bold, is a fair contrast to Hella’s intense, but equally bold features, Adaire thinks after a moment of consideration.

“I think it suits you,” Adaire decides. “Both would be too much, but just one adds a bit of flair,” she adds, sensing Hella’s apprehension.

Hella, at that, forgets her uneasiness for a moment and notices the opportunity for another witty remark. She places a hand on her hip with a smile and retorts. “What? So you think I’m too boring and need some extra flair?”

Adaire gives Hella a side glance, detecting her jest. “Don’t give me that. You’re probably the most interesting person on this whole island, Hella. I just think that a little gold suits you.”

“Funny, Adelaide says something similar everytime she invites herself onto my boat. Though I think she would prefer I wear pearls.”

They both share a laugh at that, Adaire making sure not to fall off the stepladder. Though once the short laugh finishes, they simultaneously remember the intimate distance that separates them.

“So uh, you really think this is a good look on me?” Hella asks, a different sense of apprehension at the corners of her voice

“Yeah I do...” Adaire quietly responds. “I think it’s beautiful.”


End file.
